


Drunken Encounters Of The Dog Kind

by mistygayy



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Mitchsen - Freeform, drunk!beca being a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistygayy/pseuds/mistygayy
Summary: ‘i met you last night when you were drunkenly patting my dog in my backyard at 3 in the morning and when i asked you what the hell you were doing you slurred something about dogs being great and then you threw up on my feet and then fifteen minutes later you were passed out on my couch so that’s why you’re here right now also what the fuck is your name and why were you petting a dog in a stranger’s backyard in the middle of the night’ au





	Drunken Encounters Of The Dog Kind

**Author's Note:**

> I was browsing through RP AUs, and I came across this and got inspired. I hope you all enjoy. Shout out to @totalbellatrash for being my hype man & letting me bounce shit off her. You da real MVP gurl.

Aubrey groans as the sound of her dog barking jars her awake. “Rocky! Hush!” She calls out groggily, sighing when he completely ignores her and continues to bark. 

Picking up her phone, Aubrey checks the time. 3 AM exactly. “Seriously?” She grumbles, forcing herself to sit up. Running a hand through messy blonde hair, she slips her feet into her slippers and slowly makes her way into the living room where she finds her Puggle barking at the sliding glass door and pacing. “You should have gone potty before bed!” She scolds half heartedly as she moves toward the door. 

Fumbling with the lock, Aubrey finally slides the door open to watch Rocky bolt out into the backyard. Brows raise slightly at his eagerness, but Aubrey is too tired to question it, figuring he'd probably been holding it for some time since he refused to go before bed. 

Sighing, Aubrey leans against the side of the door, eyes closing briefly as she waits for Rocky to finish his business and come back in. After a few minutes of the blonde trying to stay awake (plenty of time for Rocky to have finished), Aubrey straightens up and pokes her head out the door. “Rocky! Come on, let's go inside!” She calls, waiting to hear his snuffles and snorts as he runs, but the only thing she hears is quiet murmuring. 

She's suddenly much more awake now, more alert -- someone is in her backyard -- her gated backyard. Fear suddenly shoots through her, but she pushes it aside and closes the door, locking it behind her before she rushes to her bedroom and reaches beneath the bed, pulling out a metallic baseball bat. 

Weapon in hand and phone in her other, she hurries back out into the living room and to the door, where she slowly opens it and slips out slowly, leaving it partially open. As she ventures out into her backyard, her porch lights turn on automatically, but the light doesn't reach far enough out to see anything. So Aubrey turns on her phone flashlight and slowly makes her way further out.

By now the murmuring has turned into slurred speech and Aubrey is able to tell it's a woman’s voice. “Who's--who's a good dog, huh?” The voice mumbles lowly. 

Aubrey pauses to listen more. “So soft. Your fur.” There's a moment of silence and then the sound of a body flopping into the grass. Feeling a little less threatened, Aubrey shines her light forward. A few feet in front of her, Rocky sits next to a woman laying on her back. Her fingers are lazily scratching at his chest while he occasionally licks at her arm. 

She steps closer, unsure of whether she should be amused or pissed that this woman (who appears to be drunk) has trespassed into her backyard. “What the _hell_ are you doing?” She finally asks as she peers over the woman, shining her light down on her.

The woman holds up a hand and scrunches up her face cutely. And yes she will begrudgingly admit (only to herself) the woman is cute because now she can see her face and her dark brown locks. “Uh-- petting this dog?” The woman slurs in confusion, as if it isn't obvious. With some effort, the woman manages to sit up, but her attention is still on Rocky, fingers scratching the top of his head. 

Aubrey rolls her eyes, fingers tapping against the handle of the bat she clearly didn't need. “Why?” 

The woman finally shifts her gaze to Aubrey, looking utterly bemused -- which isn't saying much in her current state. “Why not? Like-- why would you ask me such-- such a question? Dogs are---” She pauses as if searching for the right word. “Dogs are precious, dude. Too good-- too-- too pure for this world.” She says and Aubrey is a little surprised at the genuine emotion she can hear in the woman’s voice. 

“Are-- are you _crying?_ ” Aubrey asks, both amused and a little horrified. 

The woman frowns, sniffling quietly. “N-no.” She hiccups, angrily swiping at her cheek. “Oh man,” The woman brings a hand up to her stomach. “I--I don't feel so good.” Before Aubrey can do or say anything in response, the woman is lurching forward and puking at her feet. 

“This night just keeps getting better…” Aubrey mumbles to herself, grimacing down at her vomit splattered slippers.  
\--

“‘M so sorry ‘bout your--your slippers, dude.” The woman says sluggishly as Aubrey practically carries her into her house. 

“It’s fine.” Aubrey replies with a slight grunt, stopping to lean against the door frame for a moment, before she leads the woman over to the couch. “You can stay here for the night, I guess-- since I can’t get much out of you except apologies.” She says, taking a moment to catch her breath. 

The woman mumbles something unintelligible as Aubrey manages to maneuver her to lay on her side, so that if she were to be sick again, at least she wouldn’t choke on her own vomit. After the woman is settled onto the couch, Aubrey goes to her bathroom to retrieve a garbage can, which she sets beside the couch, below the woman’s head. “Try not to miss the trash can, please if you happen to get sick again.” She says, but the woman is already out of it, mumbling in her sleep. 

With a tired sigh, Aubrey goes about setting out some water and an ibuprofen on her coffee table, in the off chance that the woman wakes up before Aubrey (Which she highly doubts). She then retrieves her slippers from the porch to throw them in the wash before she finally crawls back into her bed. 

\--

The first thing that Beca registers is that there is something hot, and wet repeatedly being pressed against her face-- a tongue? She jerks awake and immediately regrets the movement as her head throbs and her stomach rolls. “Fuck…” She groans, finally opening her eyes to find herself face to face with a dog she doesn’t recognize, it’s wet little nose just inches from her face. 

It stares at her unblinkingly. 

“Good morning.”

For half a second, Beca thinks the dog is talking to her, and before she can stop herself, she’s letting out a yelp and sitting up abruptly. “Jesus Christ!” Her head screams at the movement and it has her groaning again. 

“Are you okay?” 

Beca looks up to find a woman staring down at her with a mixture of concern and amusement etched across her face, a cup of something steaming held close to her lips. “Uhm--” She brings her hand back down away from her face and looks around the room. “I’m not-- entirely sure.” She spots the glass of water and ibuprofen on the coffee table and quickly leans forward to grab them both, downing the medicine and taking a few extra sips of water before she sets it back on the table. “Not to sound like a dick but-- who are you?”

The blonde raises a brow and takes a sip of her coffee before answering. “Aubrey Posen. Now, _who are **you**_ and why the hell were you in my backyard at 3 in the morning, petting my dog?” 

Beca feels her face heat up, quickly avoiding eye contact as she scratches the back of her neck. “Oh, shit, dude.” She mumbles, bringing her gaze to the puggle dog staring at her from the ground. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t-- I mean-- shit.” She chances a glance up at Aubrey to see her hiding a smirk behind her cup. It’s pretty cute. “Mitchell-- Beca, Beca Mitchell is my name, I mean.” She stammers, mentally facepalming herself. “My buddy Jesse lives close to here, maybe a few houses down and I probably-- I probably got confused and then sidetracked by your dog. God, I am so sorry, dude.” 

Aubrey chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s alright. You weren’t a murderer like I originally thought. Just some cute, drunk girl going on about how dogs were too pure for this world.” 

Beca flushes deeper. “Oh my god.” 

“And then you puked on my slippers.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Beca groans, bringing a hand up to her face in hopes to hide the blush. 

Aubrey outright laughs now. “It’s alright. You apologized for it. I couldn’t get much else out of you and then you were dead to the world the minute your head hit the pillow. Coffee?” 

Beca finally brings her gaze back to Aubrey’s. “Please. God, you’re like-- some sort of hungover angel sent from heaven. Wow. Did I just say that? I’d like to die now.” 

She can hear Aubrey’s laugh all the way from in the kitchen. She’s pretty sure her face is still red when she returns with a steaming cup of coffee. Beca takes it gratefully, taking a tentative sip and humming in appreciation. “Thanks.” Beca finally mumbles. “Listen, at the risk of making an even bigger fool of myself-- can I take you out to dinner tonight? As a thank you for taking care of me, I mean.”

Aubrey smiles warmly down at Beca. “I’d love to.” 

Beca grins into her next sip of coffee. “Awesome.” 

“I’d like to get to know the person behind the drunk girl who cries over dogs.” The blonde teases lightly.

“Alright-- that’s it, my offer is retracted.” Beca says, though the grin on her face says otherwise. She stands and heads for the door, Aubrey on her heels as she laughs. 

“Pick me up at seven?” The blonde asks as she opens the door for Beca. 

Beca grins wide. “It’s a date.”


End file.
